


Kill Me With a Kiss

by Hansotsi (Karmula)



Series: Hanna Week 2014 [1]
Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Canon Compliant, Canon Continuation, Consequences, Execution, F/M, Goodbyes, Hanna Week (Disney), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Post-Canon, Prisoner Hans, True Love's Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2020-12-09 16:23:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20997779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karmula/pseuds/Hansotsi
Summary: The metal was cool and smooth beneath her fingers, and Anna jerked back instinctively at the contact. Ever since – well, ever sinceithad happened, she’d been much more sensitive to the cold. She knew her sister would never hurt her intentionally, that everything was alright now, but somehow that knowledge just made it all worse – made her feel all the more guilty.She shook her head and grasped the door handle firmly in her fist, yet still she hesitated, the prospect of actually opening this door, of actually entering the room beyond, too terrifying to even begin to comprehend. But she knew what she had to do.





	Kill Me With a Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Hanna Week Day I, 2014, inspired by the prompts "Bad Luck & Bad Deeds" and "Bound/Forgiveness/Bitterness." Edited and reuploaded in 2019.

The metal was cool and smooth beneath her fingers, and Anna jerked back instinctively at the contact. Ever since – well, ever since _it _had happened, she’d been much more sensitive to the cold, to anything even remotely like ice. She knew her sister would never hurt her intentionally, that everything was alright now, but somehow that knowledge just made it all worse – made her feel all the more guilty.

She shook her head and grasped the door handle firmly in her fist, yet still she hesitated, the prospect of actually opening this door, of actually entering the room beyond, too terrifying to even begin to comprehend.

But she knew what she had to do.

As had her sister.

* * *

“What did you want, Elsa?” Anna asked, dropping into her seat with a dull thud.

Across from her, her older sister sat, prim and proper, in her own sleek, high-backed chair. The two were separated by a large oak desk, but they were closer to each other than they had been in thirteen years, something for which Anna found herself saying thanks for each and every day. “I thought you had meetings today.”

“I do, but Anna, there’s something… There’s something important I need to talk to you about.”

"Sure! What is it, Elsa? You know you can talk to me about anything.”

“It’s about… Prince Hans.”

“Except that.”

“Anna, please.” Elsa exhaled heavily, rubbing tight circles into her temples with ungloved hands. “You know I wouldn’t ask to discuss this with you if I didn’t have to. It’s as… unsavoury a topic for me as it is for you.”

Anna bit her lip, casting her eyes downward in shame. “I’m sorry, Elsa, I… forgot.”

"I didn’t,” she replied curtly. After a brief silence, she sighed again, reaching one hand across the table to lace her fingers – snow-white, and equally cold – through her sister’s, squeezing gently. “I’m sorry.”

Looking up, Anna managed a half-smile. “Me, too.” She cleared her throat before asking, “So. What was it about him that we needed to discuss, exactly?”

“It is the Council’s opinion that for his crimes – namely, treason – he should be stripped of his prince title and status, declared a traitor–”

“Good!”

“–And put to death.”

A beat.

“What?”

Anna tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry, her tongue a wedge of stiff board obstructing her breathing. She felt a pounding, throbbing pain, like an ache, in her chest. Her heart felt heavy, and instinctively Anna clutched at her breast directly over the beating organ. It was almost like being struck again, and the sensation of deja vu was so vivid she could almost feel the shards of ice freezing the blood in her veins solid, flowering frost on her skin.

“Do you agree?”

“I – what do you mean, do I agree?” Anna sputtered, barely coherent, tongue thick as she tried to form the words. “Of course I agree! Why would I disagree? He tried to kill you Elsa, and – he’s – well, he’s just a– a–”

"Anna, please.”

Elsa inhaled deeply before continuing, her sky-blue eyes wide, pleading. “I know how you feel – felt. I know how you felt about him. And I know that you have Kristoff now, but that doesn’t change the fact that you had feelings for Hans. You know as well as I that he was nothing but a cruel, lying, vindictive man, with not so much as a sliver of compassion or mercy in his heart, but it wouldn’t be fair of me to expect you to just forget how he made you feel, even taking into account what he did. When you needed someone most, he was there, no matter what his ulterior motive, and that isn’t something one just forgets.”

"He didn’t love me,” Anna whispered hoarsely, on the verge of tears.

“No, Anna, he didn’t. But you loved him.”

“I…” Anna swallowed, hard, worrying her lower lip between her teeth; a nervous habit of hers, something she’d been doing for as long as she could remember. “He… He needs to – I think it’s for the best, if he – if we do what the Council wants. He deserves it. But… Well, do you think I could… say goodbye?”

Elsa nodded. “Of course, Anna. I think it’s for the best, too.”

* * *

Anna wished fervently she had brought a lantern. The dungeon was dark, cool, the air stale and smelling distinctly of rust and decay. Illuminated only by one arched, solitary window, through which silver moonlight streamed (a full moon, Anna noted, with a shiver), shadows loomed in all four corners, and she shivered.

Shutting and bolting the door behind her, she took a ginger step forward, her arms wrapped around her own torso in a nervous hug.

“Ah, the Princess of Arendelle. And what, pray tell, have I done to deserve such an honour?”

Anna instinctively recoiled at the sound of his voice, remembering the last time it had been twisted with such malice, had been tainted with such a condescending tone, and Hans laughed, harsh, more of a wolf’s bark than anything even remotely human.

He emerged from the shadows, half his face cast in darkness, bound at the wrist and ankles, his chains clinking as he moved. They were too short to allow for much movement, however, and he stayed slow to the ground, in a perpetual squat.

His skin was chafed red and raw where it came into contact with the manacles, bruises blooming black and purple, like malevolent flowers. His hair hung limp, shining and damp with grease, and his eyes – his eyes, once filled with love and adoration, were now hard, flat, almost snakelike. He was dressed in his simple winter coat, despite Arendelle being in the midst of one of the warm, balmy summers it was so renowned for. It was stained with dirt and grime, dark smudges smearing the material.

He was so far from the dorky, charming, dashing, cookie-cutter prince Anna had – quite literally – fallen for, almost so as to be unrecognisable. But not quite. He was still there, in the sharp curve of his nose, in the high arch of his cheekbones, in the spray of freckles, like the constellations in the sky, across the canvas of his face. He was still there in the sure, confident way he held himself.

He was still there, and that just made it all so much harder.

“Well? I’m waiting. And I’m _oh_ so interested to see what you have to say.”

"Hans–”

“Have you come to gloat? To mock? To regale me with stories of your new lover? About how he finally gave you your precious true love’s kiss?”

_ “Hans!” _

“Or perhaps you’re here to tell me that good will always triumph over evil? Will you tell me how foolish I was, that I deserve this humiliation? Or maybe you believe that I can redeem myself, that I can become a good man, hmm?” Hans made a harsh, hacking noise in the back of this throat as he spat at Anna’s feet, and she stumbled backwards.

“Damn you, Anna! Damn you to _hell!_ I wish I had had the foresight to run you through with my sword when I had half a chance. In the boat, perhaps, or as we were strolling through the royal gardens, or maybe even on the clock tower, so I could have thrown you off and laughed at the sight of your body, lying broken and crumpled on the ground, or–”

"They’re putting you to _death_, Hans!”

Anna gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth. There was a pause, and the colour drained from Hans’s face, and for a split second his facade was broken, the veil pulled aside, and for the first time, Anna truly _saw_ him, saw the fear bright in his eyes, the downward curl of the corners of his mouth. Then it was gone, and the sneer was back.

"Oh, goody. You must be _so_ pleased.”

"I’m not,” Anna murmured, her voice trembling. Hans snorted.

“How will they do it, I wonder? A good old-fashioned hanging? Beheading? Firing squad? Or perhaps they’ll just get your sister to strike me with her sorcery, so I can freeze to death. Then you could keep my body as a statue. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Anna just shook her head, hugging her arms around herself tighter, her fingernails digging into her skin through the fabric of her modest dress.

“What is this supposed to be, anyway, Anna? Or are you just taking this last opportunity to mock me?” he asked, his voice full of venom.

“_No_, Hans, I–” Anna broke off, gnawing on her lip. She could taste the metallic tang of blood on her tongue. “I wanted to say goodbye.”

Hans seemed genuinely surprised. “I – what?”

Something like adrenaline pumping through her veins, Anna took a few slow, cautious steps forward. When Hans showed no negative reaction, she lowered herself to the floor, the stone cold beneath her knees, and reached out a hand to cradle his face. He froze, and she hesitated briefly before rubbing her thumb across his cheek in gentle caress, tangling her other fingers in the wiry, auburn bristles of his sideburns. His green eyes were wide, melting into the eyes she had fallen in love with, and glassy.

A single tear, hot and wet, rolled down her own cheek, and she had to choke back a sob as she realised he was crying, too.

She leaned in, her heart in her throat, and touched her lips to his. They were chapped, and they chafed against her own, but he _melted_ under her touch, their lips perfectly in sync, moving together in a way hers and Kristoff’s never had. He tasted bittersweet; he tasted like blood; he tasted like lost hope and ashes; he tasted of love, of real, true _love_, burning white and bright and _hot_. The kiss was tender, perfect, and it was all Anna had ever dreamed her first kiss would be. She reached up to tangle her hands in his hair, pressing herself closer.

Tears flowing freely now, Anna pulled away.

“Tell me you want me,” she gasped, chest heaving as she drew each laboured breath.

“I want you,” Hans said breathlessly, _truthfully_, and Anna pulled him back in, deepening the kiss before pulling away again.

“Tell me you love me,” she urged.

No hesitation. “I love you, Anna,” he replied, and, weeping, Anna, kissed him, long, slow, deep, their tears mingling on their cheeks. She could taste them on her tongue, another addition to the endless flavours of this kiss. For the last time, she pulled away, pressing her forehead against his, the sharp tip of his long nose just touching hers.

“I forgive you,” she told him through tears, and his eyes widened.

“Don’t,” he replied, his voice shaking. He caught her wrist in his hand and laced her fingers with his, squeezing tightly. “Don’t,” he repeated. “I don’t love you. And you don’t love me, either.”

“But I could have,” she whispered, with a slight, almost imperceptible shake of her head. Her lower lip wobbling, Anna stood, backing away, green eyes boring into hers.

“I _could_ have.”

She spun on her heel, and she ran.


End file.
